28.3.14

February 2024: Desperate to find refuge from the nuclear storm, a group of civilians discover a secret government bio-dome. Greeted by a hail of bullets and told to turn back, the frantic refugees stand their ground and are grudgingly permitted entry. But the price of admission is high.
283 years later… Life as a slave in the Pit had never been easy, but for seventeen-year-old Sunny O’Donnell it was quickly careening out of control. Her mother was killed in the annual spring Cull, leaving her alone with a father who decided to give up on life. It’s not that she blamed him for grieving, but if they didn’t earn enough credits to keep their place inside the Pit, they would be kicked out into a world still teeming with radiation. That left her to earn the credits for both of them. It didn’t help that her boyfriend, Reyes Crowe, was pressuring her to get married and abandon her father.
Sunny didn’t think life could get any worse, until she was forced upstairs to the Dome to serve and entertain the elite at a bachelor party. That's where she met Leisel Holt, the president's daughter, and her fiancé, Jack Kenner. Now Sunny is wanted for treason. If they catch her, she'll be executed.
She thought Leisel's betrayal was the end for her…but it turns out it was just the beginning.
Sunset Rising is Book One of a series.

S.M. McEachern (also known as Susan) comes from the rocky shores of Canada’s East Coast. As a resident of Halifax during her early adult years, she attended Dalhousie University and earned an Honors Degree in International Development Studies with a focus on ocean development. Throughout her academic studies and early career, Susan had the privilege to work with many developing countries on resource management projects.
Becoming an author has been a lifelong dream for Susan. "Sunset Rising" is her debut novel and the first of many she plans to write.

“Oh, Summer. If you weren’t so picky, you could have been married by now. But whenever a boy is interested in you, you’re suddenly not interested in him. I think you like flirting more than actually having a boyfriend.”
“That’s not true. I just haven’t met the right one yet.”
“Though you do bring up a good point. You’re running out of time.”
Summer could have had her pick of any boy in the Pit. A full head shorter than me, her small stature and delicate limbs gave her an elegant, feminine quality. I always felt large and clumsy next to her.
“You know, we’re always talking about me,” Summer said. “How are you? How’s your dad?”
She might regret asking that question, but I gave her an honest answer. “Dad lost his job yesterday because he didn’t show up for work.”
“Oh, Sunny. What are you going to do?”
I heard sympathy in her voice, and exasperation, too. My father had always been a little self-destructive. My mother had done a fairly good job of protecting me from it, but without her, I was on my own with him. “I told Reyes last night I couldn’t marry him until after the next Cull.”
“You’re postponing? Again?” she asked. “That’s a bit drastic. I’m sure your father can get another job. He’s had a lot of experience in the mines.”
“He’s barely been eating since Mom left, and now he’s too weak to get out of bed.”
“But you’ve put your marriage on hold once before, and I can’t imagine Reyes is happy with postponing again. And you’re not getting any younger, Sunny. You’re almost eighteen. Aren’t you afraid Reyes is going to get fed up with waiting and move on to someone else?”
I had never thought about Reyes being with someone else. We had been together forever. And at our age, it was getting kind of late to go looking for a new partner. Of course he would wait for me. If I gave him enough time, he would eventually understand that my father needed me right now, and I couldn’t leave him.
But there was wisdom in her words. At seventeen, I was middle-aged, and that didn’t bode well for getting approval to have a child. Population control in the Pit was getting stricter all the time. Reyes really wanted a child, but if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t. I guessed that was why I didn’t feel an urgent need to get married right away.

21.3.14

To say that Sophie Bloom is at the top of her game with one only week until spring equinox and the final showdown with Zeus and Hades would be, well, lying. The Goddess of Spring feels more like the Goddess of Bzz Thanks For Playing than the savior of humanity. And could her relationships be any more messed up?
Good times.
Sophie is convinced that things can’t get any worse than crawling back to her mother Demeter and begging for help. But she’s about to find out how very wrong she is.
It’s a race against time for Sophie to implement the big battle strategy in the YA romantic comedy/Greek mythology finale My Life From Hell. Love meets comedy with a whole lot of sass in book three of this teen fantasy romance series. Save herself; save the world. Humanity may be screwed.

Tellulah Darlingnoun
1) YA romantic comedy author because her first kiss sucked and she's compensating.
2) Alter ego of former screenwriter.
3) Sassy minx.
Writes about: where love meets comedy. Awkwardness ensues.
Tellulah Darling is a firm believer that some of the best stories happen when love meets comedy. Which is why she has so much fun writing young adult romantic comedy novels. Her tales span contemporary, teen fantasy romance, and YA Greek mythology, and range from stand alone books to series. For Tellulah, teen romance is the most passionate, intense, and awkward there is - a comedy goldmine. Plus smart, mouthy, teen girls rock.
Sassy girls. Swoony boys. What could go wrong?

I fired again and again, staying rooted to the spot, and forcing extra power from deep within the earth. I wiggled my bare feet into the dirt, digging my toes in deeper.
At least it didn’t stay dark. Between fireballs, lightning strikes, my shockwaves and Kai’s black light, it was quite the dazzling illumination.
My eyes closed. I didn’t need to see the Photokia and Pyrosim to know where they were. I could sense them, millions and millions, swarming me. More than I could count. More than I could process.
It was a plague of minions. The world was so thick with them that I was amazed there was still room for air. Their fireballs burned my skin and sparked my hair. Their lightning arced through my body.
The air was heat and smoke and burning destruction. Every particle glided over my skin in electric vibrations that shocked the tiny hairs on my arms. Black ash rained down, covering me in a blanket of soot. I took it all in and used it. Turned it around and sent it back with every shockwave I fired.
I felt untouchable. Even with all the hits I was taking, my healing abilities kept up pretty well. I had never been more a goddess, more every-inch powerful, than in this moment. I felt Persephone settle into my skin, connect to me in a way that had never happened before. For this moment, at least, we were in perfect synch. We were the vanquishers and our enemies would go down tasting our wrath.
Until I heard the laughter.

17.3.14

Fiercely independent Helen Winters was born completely blind, but she vowed never to let her disability keep her down. She did not expect a traumatic event to devastate her life and force her to drop out of college. Disillusioned by the cruelty of people, Helen retreated from society to live by herself as a reclusive writer in the woods—where no one could ever hurt her again.
When a brilliant young doctor shows up on her doorstep, promising her that his new research can give her the ability to see for the first time, Helen stubbornly refuses. She has learned not to trust anyone, and to rely only on herself. But Dr. Liam Larson will not take no for an answer. He makes it his personal mission to rescue Helen from her loneliness, and bring joy into her world once more—the joy she has denied herself for so long.
When Helen’s demons come racing back into her life, threatening to rip her apart and destroy the strength she has carefully rebuilt, Liam is the only one who might be able to save her.
Can he reach the broken girl in time, helping her to heal and see the world in a different light? Or will Helen’s grief send her spiraling out of control, lost to him forever?

“I wish Owen would stop babbling so that I could actually talk to you for five minutes,” Liam muttered. “You’re such an interesting person.”
“Me?” I ask in confusion. “I’m just your average hermit writer.”
“Exactly,” he says. I hear a smile in his voice. “I don’t know too many of those. You’re part of a very rare species.”
I look down to hide my embarrassment. I can feel him staring at me; the tension is beginning to grow thick in our small quarters. He is sitting very close to me, even if we are separated by the back of his seat. When Owen was in the car with us, the atmosphere was light and funny. But now, it’s dark and intense; it’s laced with something I don’t understand and don’t want to discover. I try to think of something to say to take his focus away from me and my life. “It’s just a job,” I say dumbly.
He scoffs. “Just a job? Helen, I work with other doctors every day. We heal people, and it should be glamorous; we should feel like heroes. But in truth, it gets... mechanical. At some point, you start to question how important your work really is. I mean, you can heal a person’s body... but that doesn’t really heal the person. We aren’t just bodies, you know? That’s where your books come into play.” He pauses, and I can feel him giving me an earnest look. “Books are medicine for the soul. They heal the eternal parts of a person.”
“Liam,” I say in surprise.
“You are a doctor of sorts, too,” he tells me, “except for the fact that your work persists. If a person reads a good book—they become permanently changed. They can’t even help it. They can’t unlearn what they’ve learned. It will always be with them. Our bodies all crumble and fade, and we’ll all eventually lose our eyesight near the end, along with many other basic bodily functions. But I like to think that even when we’re gone, the soul retains some of that wisdom—some of that feeling. What I do is simple science, but what you do is... magic.”
“Stop talking,” I whisper. “Seriously, stop talking right now.”
“Why?” he says, somewhat hurt at the interruption.
“Because I’m pretty sure that if you keep talking like this... I’ll have to marry you, or something,” I explain nervously. “So just zip it.”

11.3.14

Can Miranda save the human race?
An elegant, sophisticated alien species on the verge of extinction has invaded Earth and confined an entire generation of young women, after negotiating a treaty with the world’s governments. Eager to help the aliens reproduce, but frightened by her imprisonment at Nidus, the Eslite medical compound, sixteen-year-old Miranda Mays endures callous scientific experiments in the Eslite’s quest for survival.
When Miranda discovers the ultimate consequences of her egg donations, she organizes a rebellion, enlisting fellow donors in her cause. But soon she realizes the mysterious headmaster, Dimas, knows of her plot. And there’s something about him that bothers Miranda, though she can’t describe it. The fate of humanity hangs in the balance, so she can’t back down. But will Dimas expose her defiance?

CM Doporto lives in the great state of Texas with her husband and son enjoying life with their extensive family along with their Chihuahua, Mexican Redhead Parrot, and several fish.
She earned her Bachelor’s Degree in Journalism from The University of Texas at Arlington. She briefly worked in the area of Public Relations and Advertising and then pursued a career in the field of Human Resources. CM considers herself a life-long learner and returned to school and earned her Master of Art’s Degree in Organizational Development from Dallas Baptist University.
She writes Young Adult and New Adult Sci-Fi/Urban Fantasy stories about ordinary women who do extraordinary things, become a heroine, and find love along the way.

“Then allow me to do the honors,” Dimas said, easing my backpack from my grip.
What? Was he going to search me? My pulse quickened, and I managed to speak regardless of the tightness in my throat. “Sure.” I closed my mouth after I realized that I had just agreed to allow him to touch me. What the hell was wrong with me? He’d find the tracker. There was no way I could hide it.
“Yes, sir,” Karpos said, returning to the command station.
My legs tensed as I extended my arms, assuming the search position.
“Relax,” Dimas spoke softly into my ear. “I am not going to hurt you.”
Every muscle weakened, turning me into bowl of Jell-O. It would take all of my inner strength to keep me upright for his interrogation. “You promise?”
He didn’t speak but chuckled deep in his throat. His laughter made me cringe, but it was his touch that had me flinching when he rested his palms on my back. In a slow, gentle movement, he glided his hands along my curves, kneading my muscles with a surprisingly tender touch. I hated that it felt so good, because I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it.
He moved his hands in front of me, drawing me closer to his body. For a moment, I wanted to flee, but something kept me frozen in place. In a fast movement, he swept his fingers above my breasts, over my shoulders, and then down my arms. He rested his palms on my stomach, and the sheer warmth of his skin seeped through my thin scrubs, searing my frigid flesh to a sizzling one hundred and ten degrees.
His fingers spread across my abdomen and along my sides, stopping at my waist. My heart beat wildly, and I had trouble determining if it was from the fear of being caught with the tracker or from the body search. He lingered inches from my pocket, where I secretly hid the device.
“Turn around,” he ordered, as he pivoted my body between his stout arms.
“Yes, sir.” I rotated like a ballerina in a jewelry box, twirling at her master’s command. Our eyes met once again, igniting a spark that I knew spelled trouble. Anticipation mixed with fear, reducing my mind to a poisonous cocktail. And then I recognized it. That same mind-numbing sensation I experienced when I visited in his quarters. I wanted to stop it, but it was too late. I had already tasted our strange but exciting connection, and now I wanted more.
Because he made me feel alive.
The proximity of his body to mine was overwhelming, and my heart raced as I longed for
him to finish. With his gaze fixed on mine, his hands glided over my scrubs, tracing the outline of my curves. I nearly collapsed when his fingers worked their way up my inner calves to my thighs, and I recoiled when he paused briefly on the tracker in my pocket. I braced myself, preparing for the worst, but relaxed when a smile played at the edge of his lips. Instead of demanding that I remove the device, he simply did nothing.
“You can lower your arms,” Dimas said, handing me my backpack.
“Oh, okay.” I stammered, still shocked that he ignored the tracker. He had me totally
confused. Did he want me to have it? Maybe he didn’t feel it. No, he did. I know he did. Or did he want me out of there so bad that he was willing to overlook what I had taken? Thoughts ran rampant, making me a hot mess, once again.

9.3.14

El trasfondo con animales de E.V.Fairfall

A good part of Transformed involves animals, and that is largely from personal experience. I grew up in a small town with a lot of wildlife. I had a mountain lion living in my neighbors' backyard, baby foxes growing up at the end of my driveway, and a pregnant deer living under my deck which led to an adorable baby faun. We lived in the mountains; I had my own little forest, and to me those animals were an extension of myself. They shaped who I am today, and I had experiences that I’ll never forget. One time I was painting outside and a large bear walked right in front of my canvas, no more than 6 feet away. He was just minding his own business and enjoying a stroll, but it scared me half to death and I ran into the house. I have sad stories too, times that I’ve experienced people's lack of compassion toward these animals, and it always was hard for me to understand. My inclusion of animals in Transformed is a little cathartic, and a little bit unavoidable. When I set out to write a book, I always pour a little part of myself into the ink, the paper, the binding. Adding the animals just happened to be the part of myself that I chose to share with the world.

Since the beginning, two entities have had complete, unquestioned control over Thea: the Earth and God.
But when Thea suddenly figures out that the Earth has trapped her within a forest, she discovers that the only way to set herself free is to break God’s one rule; she must forsake her animal form and become human.
The result is nothing she could ever have expected. Lost within the torrent of human emotions, Thea starts to lose who she is and even begins to fall in love with the one thing she always hated: a hunter.
As her act against God proves more problematic than anticipated, it is only a matter of time before her punishment may prove to be worse than Earth’s entrapment.

Found E.V. Fairfall on Goodreads
I love to write just as much as I love to read. I try to read a book per week, which doesn't always work out, but it's the thought that counts. Aside from all that I am a huge animal person.Transformed is my first novel, but it isn't my first publication; I've had several short stories published over the last two years. My main goal as a writer is to explore humanity and to give people something fun to read.

5.3.14

Mae never asked to be craft-born. She never wanted that burden.
The realm needs magic again, and the the King of Aegunlund has been waiting for the first craft-born girl to marry his son, Prince Casimir.
In Mae’s town of Halts-Walden, the ambitious miller claims his daughter Ellen is craft-born. Mae knows this is a load of hogwash, but she’s glad Ellen will have the unfortunate pleasure of becoming queen instead of her. All she has to do is sit back and wait until Casimir and Ellen are married, then she will finally be free of the threat of her fate. But on that day an event so shocking and terrible occurs that Mae finds herself entering the neighbouring cursed forest on a quest she never thought she’d have to follow.
Join Mae as she rides her white stag through the Waerg Woods with a pampered prince at her heels. She’s out for revenge and nothing, no one, will get in her way.

Sarah grew up in the middle of nowhere in the countryside of Derbyshire and as a result has an over-active imagination. She has been an avid reader for most of her life, taking inspiration from the stories she read as a child, and the novels she devoured as an adult.
She is the author of the popular YA dystopia series 'Blemished' and the gothic novella 'My Daylight Monsters'. Her latest series is called White Hart – a YA fantasy about a girl who hides magical powers from everyone around her.

Father and I live on the edge of the gloomy forest; close enough to smell the leaves, hear the rustle of animals, and sense the dangers within. Darkness hangs below the knotted canopy of branches. I stand and watch in awe, following Anta’s hoof-prints. It’s late. The sun sets. The grey of dusk descends over Halts-Walden with the threat of rain in the dark underbelly of clouds. The prince may well be greeted with mud and rain in the morning. The thought makes me feel rather gleeful. I imagine some pampered, puffy prince on the back of a regal horse, riding into the village in search of the red hair of maidens, quaint flowers, and those who bend the knee to him.
“Come in for stew, Mae,” Father says. “You should have a bath, too, if the prince is arriving.”
“I thought the whole point was to make sure the prince wouldn’t want me,” I reply, shooting him a glance.
Father sighs. “That’s true. But this is still a momentous occasion for the village, and you should look the part, or you’ll attract attention. Do you know the last time we had a royal come here?”
I shake my head.
“Well, it was before my time. Your grand-papa talked of it sometimes. King Aldrych the First came when he was still a prince. He thought we were enchanted, because of where we live. I suppose the kings always do.”
We’re under Aldrych the Second’s rule, now, a man I know little about because of how isolated we are. His reputation is one of greed. The only thing I know is that he wants his precious Red Palace to make his gems. Apparently the craft is needed for that. I don’t know how it works. Part of me would love to see the castle, to discover what makes it so special.
“Well, Ellen is craft-born, after all.” I snort. She’s got about as much craft in her as the muck in Farmer Black’s pigpen.
“Are you complaining, Mae? You’ve wanted nothing more than to avoid Ellen’s fate. Ever since…” He trails off.
Ever since I realised I have the magic in me. To finish his sentence, I lift a hand and click with my thumb and index finger. The butterflies that usually hide away between our flowers reveal themselves in the garden. There are dozens of them fluttering through the sky of all colours: red, yellow, blue, patterned with eyes that stare out like rubies. They fly to me and cluster around my hand.
Father shakes his head, but he laughs. “If only your mother could see you.”
A bold butterfly with wings the colour of sapphires lands on my nose, tapping me with its antennae.
“I just wanted to call you,” I say. “There’s no job for now.”
The butterfly leaves my nose sharply, as though in a huff. The others follow, flapping their tiny wings, disappearing back amongst the flowers.
“You shouldn’t call them whenever you feel like it,” Father warns. “Nature doesn’t exist to serve you and your every whim.”
I’ve heard this speech many a time, so I clap my hands together to prevent a long lecture. “Stew it is, then!”
Father puts an arm around my shoulders as we head back to the hut. “Rabbit stew, in fact. With carrots and mint. I need to fatten you up—I can feel your ribs!”
I pat my tunic. “Really?” I am small for my age.
He chuckles as we walk through the doorway. I help him up the stone step. “You’re still growing. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be a few inches taller by your sixteenth birthday.”
I lift his arm from my shoulders, and it drags dark curls in front of my eyes. I push them back behind my ears. “I doubt it.”
“Sit down and eat your meal.” Father points to the table, laid out with a bowl of food. It’s barely enough for the two of us. “Tomorrow will be a big day. We’ll see the prince, and when he takes Ellen away, we’ll never have to worry again about you being sent to the Red Palace.”
I like the sound of that. As I shovel down the rabbit stew, my shoulders lighten. For years we’ve worried about my powers. We know little about craft and the craft-born, except that the magic within me seems to allow me to call on nature. I don’t know why it makes me powerful or how it would benefit the realm, I just know that I don’t want to be a princess and I never have. I can’t think of anything worse than flouncing about in fancy dresses, cooped up in the Red Palace forever, forced into marrying someone I don’t even know. I certainly don’t want to use my powers to help the king become even richer.
But there is something in me that longs to find out more about the powers within me. Sometimes I fantasise about disappearing from Halts-Walden and travelling Aegunlund in search of answers. I want to be in the woods with the birds and the butterflies. I want to climb trees and ride Anta ’til my arse-cheeks are sore. I don’t know why I’m craft-born, and I don’t really care. All I know is whatever the reason, it has to be more than sitting pretty on a throne. There must be more to life. There has to be freedom and adventure in this world. I want to find it.